The Family Business?
by Give-Your-Best-Anyway
Summary: Amelia is just your average college sophomore. That is, until two strange men in suits appear on campus asking questions and her father goes missing. Is his disappearance related to the others? Rated M to be safe. Sorry if the summary is terrible. This is my first time writing and publishing a fic about "Supernatural." Please let me know if I should continue!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey, guys. This sort of just popped up in a dream that I had a while ago, and I just had to write it down, albeit more detailed. Enjoy! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Supernatural **_**or its characters.**

_"I never believed in ghosts until I came face to face with one . . ."_

I scoffed at the program my roommate, Rose, turned on in our small dorm room at the University of Texas. Hearing me, Rose turned and faced me sheepishly.

"Sorry, Ames. I couldn't resist," her hazel eyes widened, "I mean, what if that is real? I want to be prepared just in case. You believe in Heaven and Hell – why is this so hard for you to believe in, too?"

"Of course I do. I'm Christian. But all of that? His jealous girlfriend back from the dead? Her grandma's spirit living on as if she hadn't died? I don't think so. Besides, even if that could happen, do you really think that mimicking these _actors_, provoking them and disturbing their resting place, would help you _or_ them?" I replied, rolling my eyes.

Rose just shook her head at me and smiled. She and I have been friends for about a year and a half now. We were both freshman in the daunting Intermediate French II class when we struck up a conversation and discussed existential French literature over coffee the following morning. She and I look and act differently, but many think we're somehow related.

Rose Matthews has long and straight blonde hair, perfectly shaped and colored hazel eyes, tan skin, and a supermodel skinny figure to die for. She is very quiet and reserved, never speaking out of turn or doing anything that has the potential to rock the boat.

I, Amelia Grace Tennant, am pretty much the opposite. My messy, curly, dirt brown hair is usually pulled back somehow, never just left alone (except on the weekends when the parties start, and by that I mean watching Netflix while picking at Flaming Hot Cheetos and iced tea). My eyes are a lighter brown, but that's what I get for having the dominant genes in me. My skin is so pale that no one believes me when I say that I'm Italian. I'm not skinny, but I'm not really fat, although society deems me as such. I'm soft and curvy. Yeah, let's go with that. While I am respectful and polite, I live for sarcasm. I don't party or anything either, but I like having a good time.

Rose and I grew up in very different homes as well. She has a loving mother and father that obsess over their jobs and money, but Rose never reflects that attitude. I have, well, had, two dads that are all about the small-town, homey feel. They adopted me when my birth mother decided that she couldn't take care of me when she had a son of her own.

Dad died a few years ago from cancer. It's just Papa and I now. He lives about twenty minutes from campus, neither of us willing to be too far apart after Dad's passing. Rose couldn't wait to be away from her stuffy parents. I was just hoping to get through school to make something of myself and to make my parents proud.

* * *

Monday morning came all too quickly. I stumbled out of bed, hastily pulling on a Metallica tee shirt and jeans. Rose was already up, perfecting the cat eye liner on her left eye while dressed in a satin blouse and trousers.

"Morning, sunshine!" She smiled brightly at me through the mirror.

I glowered at her as I braided my hair to the side.

"Or . . . not."

"It's too early for this shit, Rosie."

"Amy, 8:30 really isn't that early."

"Whatever you say, Miss I-Wake-Up-Singing-With-the-Woodland-Creatures. Hey, have you heard that Marcy's dad went missing Friday? That's the 4th disappearance in 3 months."

"No, I didn't," Rose answered, concerned, "I hope they find him."

"Don't you think this is weird? All dads of students that go here, all disappear on a Friday, all never seen again?" I frowned.

"It is alarming, yes. I'm sure ours will be fine, though. Hey, don't you have to be somewhere?"

Reluctantly dropping the subject, I looked at the wall clock. I jumped up, startling Rose, and exclaimed,

"OH FUCK! I have to meet my professor across campus in fifteen minutes!"

I frantically pulled on a pair of combat boots, grabbed my bag, and yelled a goodbye to Rose as I ran out of the room. As I was rounding the corner of the outside of the science building and coming into the main quad, I glanced at my phone to make sure I would make it to my professor's office in time. Not paying attention, I ran into something solid.

I was falling backwards, no doubt going to land on my ass, when a hand grabbed my elbow and steadied me. I looked up and saw this gorgeous guy in a simple black suit with bright green eyes staring into mine. When we made eye contact, he grinned widely and spoke to me in a deep, gravelly voice.

"Hi, I'm Dean."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I forgot to mention that this is set sometime before the end of season one. I haven't exactly figured out the best way to switch between point of views, but unlike the first chapter, this one is in regular old third person rather than first. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Again, no part of **_**Supernatural**_** is mine.**

Dean Winchester woke up to the alarm clock pitifully trying to play whatever song was on the radio station over the predominant static. He groggily sat up and saw his brother, Sam, slouched over at the small plastic table in their decrepit motel room while staring intently at his laptop's screen.

"Sammy, how can you even see that with all of your hair in your face? God, I should start calling you Shaggy."

"It's Sam, and I can see just fine, thanks. Coffee's in the pot," Sam responded without taking his eyes off of the bright screen.

Dean pulled off the covers and stood up onto the shag carpet that seemed to have been in the room since the '70s. He shuddered at the thought of where all of the stains came from. Walking into the kitchen, he grabbed a chipped mug and poured some of the coffee into it. Dean sniffed at it before cautiously bringing the mug to his mouth and taking a sip. His face scrunched up as he spit it back into the mug.

"What the hell kind of black sludge is that? That sure ain't coffee!"

Ignoring Dean's pickiness – although, he hated to admit it, but the coffee was kind of gross and tasted like it had been sitting in the room since before he was born – Sam leaned back and focused on his brother.

"Anyway, I think I've got a case. Over the past few months, fathers of students at the University of Texas have disappeared in the same way. They just vanished, as if they weren't there to begin with. The only sign of struggle is blood by the window, and it's always the victims."

Dean sat down at the table next to Sam, grabbing the laptop to read the news article himself. His eyes lit up at the prospect of going to a college.

"You know I'm down, kiddo. College girls . . . mmm," his tone grew serious, "will you be okay on the campus? I mean, with Stanford I just –"

"I appreciate your concern, but I'll be fine. Really. Just, let's just focus on the case and not get distracted, okay?"

Dean sighed and agreed. The Winchesters packed up their belongings, changed, and hopped into the Impala heading south towards Texas.

A few hours later, the boys checked into a slightly more decent motel and changed into their FBI suits. Straightening his simple black tie, Dean called out to his brother.

"Hey, Sam. You think these girls will know anything? I mean, they've been at school. None of them were home when their dads disappeared. Why not talk to their wives?"

"True, but maybe they know of anyone who might be mad at them and want revenge. There has to be a connection. I don't know what it could be yet. Their mothers can be interviewed as well. I just thought we should get your perverted old man phase out of the way so we could move on and focus on the case."

Sam smirked as Dean threw a pillow at his head, easily dodging the projectile object. With one last glance in the mirror, Sam followed his brother to the car. Sliding in, Sam looked out the window and rolled his eyes at Dean's choice of mullet rock. He was getting used to hearing nothing but that genre again. He got hooked on newer music when he was with Jess. Sam sighed and looked over the map to direct Dean towards the university.

When they arrived on campus, Sam and Dean headed on into the main quad trying to find a map to locate the dean's office. Dean was looking at the buildings when he felt something run into him. He looked down in time to see a girl start to fall backwards. Reaching out, he grabbed the girls elbow and helped her right herself. She looked up, startled.

Dean was taken away by her glimmering brown eyes and her chocolate brown hair that was pulled into a side braid with pieces framing her face. After a few seconds, Dean gave her one of his winning smiles and said,

"Hi, I'm Dean."

The girl pulled back and smiled politely, returning the greeting.

"Hey, I'm Amy. Um, I'm sorry about that. I'm trying to get to my professor before he freaks out on me . . . again."

"No, no. it's my fault. Really. Hey, love the shirt," he remarked as he looked at her Metallica top, "My brother and I have a meeting with the dean, but after that, why don't we go out for a drink and we can talk about your awesome taste in music?"

She looked taken aback for a brief moment, but that was replaced with a defiant look.

"Sorry, uh, Dean, was it? I don't know what kind of girl you think I am, but I don't go out with random men after running into them. Besides, I don't drink. Now if you'll excuse me, I really must be leaving."

As she was starting to run, dean called after her.

"Wait! Amy! Can't you at least show us where the dean's office is?"

She turned and pointed at the building a few yards away, glanced at her phone, then ran off frantically towards another building. When she got to the door, she turned back around and looked at Dean once more before going inside.

Dean was staring in her direction even after she disappeared from his line of sight. Sam waved his hand in front of his brother's face, bringing him back to reality.

"What the hell, Dean? I thought we agreed you wouldn't prey on girls here."

"Oh, ease up, Sammy. She wasn't interested anyway," Dean replied, looking a little miffed.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Dean walked with his brother in the direction Amy pointed them in and eventually found the dean's spacious office.

"I can give you boys the names of the victims' daughters. I don't know them well, just that they were great members of the community. I can't see any of them having enemies. Sorry I couldn't be of more use," the older gentleman said, reaching into different drawers in a filing cabinet and pulling out four manila folders. He handed them over to Sam and led the brothers to a small sitting area right outside of the office.

"Take all of the notes you need. Just don't leave with their files. You may speak to them when needed as long as it is within normal visiting hours and you are not interrupting classes. I'll be in my office if you need anything."

Sam and Dean nodded in thanks and began pouring over the files, looking for anything that may link the victims or give insight into who, or what, was behind the disappearances. After about half an hour, they handed the files back to the dean and left with a list of the girls' names and where they lived on campus as well as their home addresses and their parents' names.

"It's 1 o'clock. Why don't we grab some lunch and come back to talk to the girls in a couple of hours after most classes finish?" Dean asked.

Sam agreed and began navigating them back to the Impala. Dean couldn't get Amy out of his mind. _I hope I will see her again. Maybe she'll like me if I apologized,_ he thought. Little did he know she was thinking of him, too.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Supernatural **_**nor any of the show's elements.**

Mindlessly **s**taring ahead in my psychology class, I didn't notice Professor Williams standing behind my left shoulder. He tapped my shoulder lightly, startling me back to reality.

"Miss Tennant, I'm sure whatever stereotypical young adult crisis is going through your mind, it can wait until after you work on that sleep chart."

Smiling sheepishly, I hastily apologized and tucked my chin into my neck, trying to shield my tomato-red face from the rest of the class. I heard a couple of people snickering and tried to ignore them, unsuccessfully trying to focus on the average sleep pattern of a human.

I couldn't get that man out of my head. He looked older than me but maybe only by 6 or 7 years. Dean, I think his name was, had something about him that drew me in. I played it off like I didn't care about who he was or what he wanted. That was hard – I don't think he'll ever speak with me again.

Once class ended, I quickly walked up the stairs in the lecture all, trying to avoid my peers and to keep my head high, nose in the air. Just like I always did. So maybe I hid behind the sarcasm. Who cares? It worked, or so I thought. Going through what I did growing up, you learn quickly to harden your exterior. Rose is my best friend, but she doesn't even know that much about my past.

I was bullied a lot for having two dads and no mom. Not to mention my best friend from high school committed suicide in our dorm freshman year. Many of her other friends blamed me, for not noticing something was wrong with her and for not helping her before it was too late. It really got to me. Things have definitely been looking up since then, but I admit that sometimes it gets to be too much. Not that I would say that aloud.

As I was crossing the busy quad, I heard a familiar voice call out my name.

"Amy! Amy!"

Keeping a neutral expression, I turned around and saw Dean and Sam stride towards me. Damn, were they tall! A few girls looked longingly at them. When they noticed that the men were walking to me, they turned to glare at me. I heard their whispers. _Slut. How much does she have to pay them to even look at her?_

Ignoring them and the questioning looks given to me from Sam and Dean, I smiled politely.

"Sorry about earlier. I was running late to a meeting with my professor."

"No, no, it's fine. Really. Nice shirt," Dean grinned. Sam nudged him with his elbow.

"You said that earlier!" Sam exclaimed. Dean looked past my shoulder and gave am embarrassed grin.

Sam turned to me and pulled a badge out of his suit jacket, Dean following suit. Didn't see that one coming.

"Do you mind if we ask you a few questions about the missing fathers?" Sam asked.

"Not sure how much help I'll be, but sure. Let's go sit at that picnic table," I replied, leading them over to one of the few tables on the quad that wasn't wasp or spider-infested. I brushed my hand along the attached bench and sat down across from Sam and Dean. I folded my hands in my lap and waited for them to begin.

"Did you know any of the victims?" Dean asked, going from playboy to professional in 3 seconds flat.

"Uh, no. I know of their daughters. They're all my age. Marcy is in my psychology class."

"That's all you know?"

"I know that they're not the best people to be around."

Sam frowned. "How do you mean?"

_Shit, _I mentally told myself. I started to twist my hands around nervously and looked down into my lap.

"N-nothing. Forget I said anything. Look, I really should be going. Sorry I can't be more useful."

I hurriedly stood up and made to swiftly walk away, but my foot caught on the piece of wood that attached the bench to the table and fell. Sam and Dean quickly got up and went over to try and help me.

"I'm fine, really. Ow. Yeah, okay. That'll leave a mark."

"Um, if you're sure you'll be okay . . . Here's my card if you need anything or think of anything else that may help us with this case," Dean said.

Trying to maintain some of my dignity, I took the business card from Dean, lifted my head high and limped my way back to my dorm. I could feel Sam and Dean's eyes watching me until I was out of sight. By the time I made it back to my room, my ankle felt like it was on fire.

I searched through my important documents to find my new insurance card so I could go to MedExpress or something to get my ankle looked at. I only found and older card.

I called Papa to see if he could run it over from home, but it went to voice mail. Frowning, I called his cell phone. No answer. When I called his work to see if he stayed late, his secretary informed me that he hadn't been there all week.

Admittedly, the last time we talked, we argued a little. I was just sick of him constantly treating me like I was a child. I wanted to transfer to a school in New England, but Papa insisted I stay close to home. I love him and want to make him proud, but I needed to get out of the area.

He and I started yelling, and I eventually hung up on him. That was weeks ago. It was the longest span of time we went without speaking to each other. I didn't think he'd ignore me, but maybe I really did piss him off.

Sighing, I tossed my phone onto my wooden desk and plopped down onto my bed, hissing in pain when my bad ankle bounced off of the hard mattress. Five or so minutes into an episode _The Big Bang Theory_, Rose walked in and stared at my elevated leg.

"Oh my gosh, Ames! What happened?"

"Let's just say picnic tables and I don't get along," I grimaced.

After I recounted the day's events involving psych, my shock at finding out Sam and Dean were with the FBI, and my missing father, Rose looked off thoughtfully.

"I hate to say it, but do you think there's a connection between your father and the others?"

"What? No. the only time I interacted with those girls was when they messed with me, and I never spoke to their dads. It doesn't make sense."

Rose looked at me understandingly.

"Amy, I think you should talk to Agents Young and Johnson. This obviously concerns you – even if this isn't related to their case, I'm sure they can still help."

Reluctantly agreeing, I picked up the business card and dialed the number printed in a nondescript style.

"Johnson."

I took a deep breath and quietly answered Dean.

"Hi, it's Amy. Um, I think I could use some help."


End file.
